


What do you call this?

by Codango



Series: Epic tales of Sindrian romance [3]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Flirting, Drink With Me, Drinking, F/M, Morning After, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masrur grimaced, slipping an extra pair of sandals into the bedroll. What the hell had he been thinking last night? You ruined everything. Everything. Everything is ruined. Yes, pay attention when someone cries out from a nightmare; certainly, try to comfort them; absolutely get them to calm down. </p><p>Do not crawl into bed with them! Masrur wiped a hand over his face. Covered his mouth. Stared sightlessly at his rather sloppy packing job.</p><p>Her skin had been so pale. He should have asked her this morning what her dream had been. Or… he cocked his head… maybe not. She’d obviously been terrified. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to revisit the nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What do you call this?

She was sharing a tent with Yamuraiha and Toto. Masrur tried to glance casually in that general direction as he packed his bedroll. Their tent was on the opposite side of the campsite’s fire pit. He sighed. Which was probably a good thing.

Masrur gave the strap around his bedroll a harder yank than necessary. He’d been absolutely useless for the last day of the summit. Sinbad had wanted to discuss diplomatic strategy to implement after their return to Sindria — how to handle Reim and the Kou Empire, for example.

He frowned. He hadn’t been able to focus at all. Pisti had even commented, “You usually don’t say much at these things, but you, uh, seem a little distracted there, Masrur.” Apparently Sinbad had asked him a direct question, and Masrur had continued to simply stare at his own hands.

“Oh, Morgiana, are you already packed?”

Masrur’s head snapped up at the girl’s name. Morgiana had just stepped out of the tent, her enormous pack slung easily over a shoulder. Yamuraiha peeked her head out. The magician waved a bottle at the petite Fanalis. “I have something for you! Find somewhere soft where it won’t crush, all right?”

 _You are a very special brand of fool._ Masrur swallowed hard, watching as Morgiana accepted the small bottle with a look of quiet confusion.

Just this morning, she had sat next to him at breakfast. He’d broken out in a sweat and didn’t speak a word to her for the entire meal. Masrur slapped a palm to his forehead. Morgiana had finished her plate and left quietly. He found out later that she spent the rest of the day training with Toto… which is normally what _they_ did together.

 _You can’t very well expect her to ask you to spar when you were_ awkward as hell _for half an hour!_

Masrur grimaced, slipping an extra pair of sandals into the bedroll. What the hell had he been thinking last night? _You ruined everything. Everything. Everything is ruined._ Yes, pay attention when someone cries out from a nightmare; certainly, try to comfort them; absolutely get them to calm down.

Do not _crawl into bed_ with them! Masrur wiped a hand over his face. Covered his mouth. Stared sightlessly at his rather sloppy packing job.

Her skin had been so pale. He should have asked her this morning what her dream had been. Or… he cocked his head… maybe not. She’d obviously been terrified. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to revisit the nightmare.

And then he’d held her in his arms. She had laughed at something he’d said that wasn’t all that funny really.

Masrur closed his eyes. She was so soft. And deceptively small, but he shouldn’t have been so surprised… that her strength had another way of making itself known. He felt heat creep up his neck. Gods, but he had wanted her last night.

Hadn’t known that it could ever happen.

Had never let himself think it could happen because you’re the _trainer_ , the _mentor_. The one who gets her battle ready, not the one who… receives her kisses and… learns what she sounds like when she…

Masrur stood abruptly. _No. No, no, no, fuck, no. Not right now. We are_ leaving _, and —_

He swung his pack up onto his back. Something fell at his feet with a metallic thud.

He turned. His flask.

He stooped, picked it up. Turned it over and over in his hand.

_“I will get you a drink before we leave this island. An excellent one. You will like it.”_

He frowned. It was an inelegant whiskey. He packed it out of habit, from the old days when it was probably the only antiseptic/pain killer a gladiator was likely to find. His tastes had certainly refined — well, living for so many years as part of Sinbad’s Household would do that to you. If they were in Sindria, he could offer her something much smoother.

“You’re certainly deep in thought for such a gorgeous day.”

Masrur never gave away when he was startled. He merely raised an eyebrow at the blue-haired magician who appeared at his side. “Are you not supposed to think on gorgeous days?”

Yamuraiha smirked. “All you do is think, quiet man.”

He tightened his grip on the flask. “Not enough, sometimes.”

She quirked an eyebrow but let her gaze drop to the flask. “Drinking so early?”

“Not for me,” Masrur said, too quickly. “Morgiana told me she’d never had a drink before, and I… told her I’d get her one before, ah, before we left.” His speech faltered as Yamuraiha’s eyes narrowed.

She yanked the flask from his fingers. Spun open the lid and instantly crossed her eyes. “And you were planning to give her this?” She upended the vessel, its dark gold contents glugging onto the dirt. “Masrur. I take back what I said about you thinking all the time.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring helplessly at the darkening earth. “Well, it’s… I know, but it’s all I’ve got right now, and… I did say before we left, and… fuck me, what a dumb idea.” Masrur covered his eyes with a hand.

Yamuraiha tugged lightly at his fingers. “Hey,” she said softly, “it was a sweet thing to promise. But let’s get her something she’ll enjoy, hm?”

“... Yamu…”

She fluffed the collar of her robe importantly. “Where’s the glory of being a damn fine magician if you can’t have fun with it once in a while? Come with me.”

Back in her tent, he surveyed the mess open-mouthed. “Have you not even started packing?”

Yamuraiha rolled up her sleeves in front of one of her many crates of magical supplies. “I’ve got it down to a science. There’s no need to overprepare. Ah!” She shot him a triumphant smile. “Sit your ass right there, Masrur. This will only take a moment.”

 _Does she… always carry crystal stemware with her?_ Masrur watched, half in confusion, half in amazement, as Yamuraiha magicked two empty goblets to be full of water. A careful drop from a small vial into each glass turned their contents to a pale gold.

“Well. Why not.” A smaller, third glass appeared. Yamuraiha took a thoughtful sip. “Oh. Mm, I get better and better at this.” She handed him the two drinks with a knowing wink. “This. This is what you should give her.”

A faintly smoky scent, rich and peaty, wafted from the glasses. “What, ah, what do I tell her it is?”

“Well, I call it the Yamuraiha Special. But you might consider mixing up the name with something a little more… romantic perhaps?” The magician all but nudged him with her elbow.

Masrur ducked quickly out through the tent flap.

“Masrur!”

He stared, wide-eyed. Morgiana stood there, her hand still reaching for the tent flap. Her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze… only to take in the two drinks awkwardly clutched in his massive hands.

“Oh.” She hugged an arm to herself. “Yamu… Yamuraiha’s in there, isn’t she?”

“Well… well, yes,” he stammered, helpless. “That’s, uh. She’s the one who…” He held up the drinks.

Morgiana flashed a brilliant smile. “Sharrkan likes her drinks a lot too.” And she turned on her heel.

 _Sharrkan likes —? Oh. Oh no. No, no, no…_ “Morgiana! _Miss_ — Miss Morgiana,” Masrur said, falling over his words in his hurry.

Morgiana stopped. Didn’t turn around.

 _Gods, what do I say? Dammit, Yamu, you couldn’t have told me what to_ say _?_ “I asked Yamu — Yamuraiha — to make something special for you.” _That’s a lie. Kind of a lie. Definitely a lie._ Masrur stepped closer to the red-haired girl. “Because I had promised you. Do you remember? That I would find you a drink before we left the island.”

She turned then. Slowly. “One that I would like, you said.”

 _She is… unfairly beautiful. This sucks._ “One that you would like.” He held out one of the glasses. They seemed particularly ridiculous outside the tent.

But — he watched, mesmerized — color slowly crept into Morgiana’s cheeks. She bit her lip. Accepted the pale drink. Held it. Turned it in the sunlight. Admired it. Smelled it.

Masrur held his breath as she took her first sip.

Morgiana’s eyes flew open wide, a startled sound bubbling into the glass. “Amazing,” she whispered. She met his gaze, astonished, all guardedness gone. “It’s sweet! But not syrupy, like… it tastes so clear!” She stared down into the drink. “And a little… like smoke? Is that right? Sweet smoke. What’s it called?”

Sharrkan would laugh when Yamuraiha would relay later what she heard on the other side of the tent flap. “He did _not!_ ” he would giggle, and Yamuraiha would smack his shoulder and tell him he had no romance in his soul.

But neither Sharrkan nor Yamuraiha saw the look on Morgiana’s face.

How her eyes shone when Masrur replied:

“Morgiana’s Kiss.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> [Marcella Christie](http://marcellachristie.com/) for my alter ego


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